“I have to go,” Dmitri said, roughly shoving his phone into his pocket. “I’ll explain everything later, just stay here.”
I laughed at the absurdity of leaving. Like there was anywhere I wanted to go other than the safety of this warm home. My friend had tried to murder me, and I was left dealing with the aftermath.
The only thing I wanted to do was curl up on the couch, and fall into a hopefully calming sleep.
Dmitri’s jaw ticked. “I’m serious. You don’t understand what’s going on.”
“I’ll stay,” I said, sinking further into the couch.
The door clicked shut. I closed my eyes, waiting for the darkness of sleep to envelop me, and to actually feel fine again. I needed the oblivion of rest to heal this aching feeling pushing through my chest whenever I thought of the last few hours. Instead, a few insistent chimes from my phone stole any attempts at sleep.
I smiled when I realized the texts were from Gemma.
“Wanna come over and hang out?” the first text read.
As tempting as it was to see her, there was no way in hell I was leaving the house after Dmitri’s ominous warning. For all I knew there was someone else waiting to kill me.
“I’m hanging out with my boyfriend,” the next text from Gemma read. “And I want you to meet him.”
I started replying that we could do something next weekend instead when a picture dinged on my screen.
Nausea slammed against me, and I prayed that I was hallucinating. I pinched my arm, hoping it’d prove this was some twisted nightmare.
Roman’s smug face smirked at me from the picture. A heavy arm was wrapped around Gemma, and she was smiling so big I could almost feel the happiness radiating out from her.
No.
No.
As I stared at my phone, icy fingers dug into my chest, threatening to steal all of my air.
“Are you with him now?” I texted while gasping in breaths.
“Yes! We’re at my apartment,” was her immediate reply. “He says he’sdyingto meet you!”
I jumped up from the couch, Dmitri’s warning echoing in my brain.
My brain screamed that I’d be walking straight into a trap and truthfully, I couldn’t even argue against it. But I couldn’t leave Gemma there.
Roman’s disgusted face flashed in my memories.
No, I wouldn’t let him scar her mind like he had mine. I wouldn’t let him steal her light in order to exert some control over me.
I bit down hard on my lip as I opened the front door. For the only friend I had left in the world, I’d willingly put my life on the line.
I texted Dmitri that I’d be back soon. When my phone buzzed, I didn’t even have to look at his response to know he was pissed.
The entire cab ride to Gemma’s, I gripped the knives I’d hidden in my purse. I’d found them stashed at Dmitri’s, and prayed that he’d kept them sharp. I alternated my nervous fiddling with brushing my hand over the various poisons I’d hidden.
As I approached Gemma’s crappy apartment building, I replayed the layout of her floor plan, and all of the potential exits. I had no idea how the rules of the Pakhan’s competition had changed, but I knew without a doubt that Roman wouldn’t be playing fair.
My stomach knotted as I spotted a rock propping open the door to Gemma’s apartment building, and wished that I was re-entering Dmitri’s place instead of going into this mess. Pockmarks lined the hallway, and I suspected the neighbors were similar to my own, and wouldn’t call the cops if they heard gunshots or screams. When I swallowed back that thought, acrid liquid greeted my tongue.
“Alisa!” Gemma greeted me at her door.
The scent of vodka smacked against my nostrils as she pulled me into an enthusiastic hug. I looked over her shoulder, straight at Roman’s smirking face.
Roman leaned back onto a torn couch, resting his arm lazily over the stained hump of the couch. His entire attitude appearednonchalant, but there was a tension in his shoulders that he failed to hide.
